


give me the fevers that just won't break

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Pre-Canon, Robb Stark is a Gift, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, more or less
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 02:51:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4205184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>where Theon ends up sick on his name day and Robb isn't going to let him wallow in his misery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	give me the fevers that just won't break

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mockyrfears](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockyrfears/gifts).



> So uhm haha for the chapter where I really am reposting ancient stuff, this was written for [sansastark](http://sansastark.tumblr.com/)'s birthday in the year of the lord 2013 which probably shows how terrible I am at this archiving stuff business. The prompt was something fluffy in Winterfell before the horrid canon times. This happened. The title is from the Gaslight Anthem and I only own the fluff as usual.

The thing is, Theon hadn’t exactly made  _plans_  for his sixteenth nameday, not that namedays ever were much of a deal back home (or here, at least as far as he was concerned). Still, he hadn’t exactly thought that he’d spend it in bed, covered in furs and running a fever high enough to make him feel all kinds of worn down. Thanks to some fucking hail storm in the middle of the summer – apparently sometimes it happens, but it doesn’t change that other than feeling sick he’s also shivering from the damned cold.

On top of that, he hasn’t seen anyone but Maester Luwin and a couple of maids in days – no one told him that it’s because he could get others sick, but he came to that conclusion on his own – and he’s bored to tears. Then again he can’t even try to read a book because the one time he tried he only gained a headache for it.

If only he felt sleepy, at least, but no, of course it’s not the kind of fever that you ride out while sleeping most of the day.

He’s resigned to stay bored and feeling increasingly miserable for the next couple of hours when the door opens. He forces himself to turn on his side and – what is Robb doing?

“Stark,” he croaks. “’m pretty sure you shouldn’t be here.”

Robb gives him an apologetic shrug before he locks the door behind him. “I’ve been told not to visit until you were well, yes.” Nice. At least he knows he was right. “But I figured that if I waited for everyone else to be asleep no one would have found out.”

Shit, is it that late already? He had thought that they would be dining at this time.

“Weren’t you told for a reason?” Damn, speaking hurts.

“Well, yes, but I’ve shared a room with Jon for years and he kept on getting sick when it was winter. And I never caught anything from him – I’ll take my chances with you,” Robb replies almost too cheerfully before climbing on the bed next to him. Theon forces himself to turn over again – his free side was opposite the door.

“I’m touched, but there’s no need.”

“ _Theon_ , no one deserves to spend their nameday sick  _and_  without company. Shut up, won’t you?” Robb’s lips are curled into a small grin as he says it though, and there’s no irritation in his tone, and – well. It was nice of him, all things considered. And – they haven’t seen each other in five days, and Theon might have missed his presence (not that he’ll ever admit that out loud to anyone), and really, maybe having someone to talk to might at least lift up his mood a little.

“Right, and what are you planning to do? I’m not great company right now.” On cue, it turns out that he has to cough, and he spends too much time (for his tastes) doing that before he falls back against the pillows behind his back – his chest bloody hurts.

“As I just said,” he jokes weakly. Robb doesn’t look too impressed though – instead of answering, he stands up and goes towards a chair in the corner of the room. Theon can’t remember what’s on there right now, but when Robb comes back with a wet cloth he figures that it must have been some clean water and bandages. 

His throat goes dry the moment Robb starts washing cold sweat from his cheeks and neck – when he’s satisfied, he goes back to the basin and comes back with the same cloth, rinsed. Theon almost groans out in relief when Robb puts it over his head, gently enough that Theon notices how careful he’s being.

“I had more or less guessed that,” Robb says a moment later. “I brought a book – I figured I’d read you something since you can’t do that.” And how does he know? He must have asked Maester Luwin, Theon reasons. He’s oddly touched – well, someone at least was interested in knowing how he was feeling. “But considering that you’re burning up, I don’t think you’d follow me.”

An entirely good point – his head his almost pounding, by now.

He’s about to tell Robb to just go away, it’s not worth it if it’s the two of them getting sick, but then Robb takes a spare fur from his closet and places it on top of his already considerable amount of blankets.

It does feel moderately better, though.

And then Robb takes off his cloak and shirt and boots and climbs into the bed with him. 

“Robb, what –”

“What does it look like?” Robb replies as if it’s nowhere near unusual as he drapes an arm around Theon’s waist. Fine,  _that_ ’s not unusual, but the idiot really shouldn’t stay this close.

To be entirely honest, though, Theon thinks he has exhausted his selflessness for the night. If Robb wants to catch whatever he has, his business – he’s kind of warm, or he feels like that at least, and now that his hand is running up and down Theon’s spine it really feels  _nice_ , and refusing it is beyond him right now. 

“Your funeral, Stark,” he croaks before pressing back against Robb’s chest. He can feel Robb smile against his neck and – fine. He already feels slightly better, in the sense that at least he can’t think of something to be miserable about. 

“I’ll take the risk. How are you feeling right now?”

“I’ll give it to you – slightly better. Still bored, though. And I’m not falling asleep anytime soon.”

“I imagined,” Robb answers. Damn. He really did ask Maester Luwin the details, didn’t he. “Well then, since I’m spending the night in here you might as well entertain me. I suppose listening to your own voice shouldn’t give you that many headaches.”

“You’re hilarious. And how should I entertain you?”

Robb presses even closer, his hand finding Theon’s, and something in Theon’s stomach clenches when Robb’s fingers thread through his own. “However you want. I don’t know. Tell me about Harlaw? Hopefully it’s not as rainy as you say Pyke always is.”

“Pyke is  _not_  always rainy.” To be honest, he only said that to have the last word – Pyke is almost always rainy, but it’s nice to know that Robb actually remembers and hadn’t asked him those other times just because he thought someone  _should._

So his lips might curl up in a tiny smile as he starts talking and tells Robb what he remembers of the two times he visited Harlaw, but Robb can’t see it, so he doesn’t even try to stop himself.

Maybe a part of him is positive that Robb knows that even if he can’t look at him directly, and if it’s making him feel positively pleased, well, no one else has to know.

 

End.


End file.
